


put a ring on it.

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets. [33]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Prompt Fic, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:18:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4450787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up with a mouthful of dirt.  </p>
<p>Written for the prompt "Sterek + woke up married."</p>
            </blockquote>





	put a ring on it.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry for the cheesy title.

Stiles wakes up with a mouthful of dirt. 

Okay, so mouthful might be a bit of an exaggeration. It's more like a few grains, some resting on his bottom lip and some on the tip of his tongue. It doesn't really taste bad; it doesn't really taste at _all_ , actually, but it's still weird enough for him to immediately start spitting and spluttering. Once his mouth feels sufficiently clean, he slowly blinks his eyes open, curious about why exactly there's _any_ dirt in his mouth, even if it's just a few specks. 

He's surrounded by towering trees on all side, stretching up towards the bright blue canopy of the sky. He's lying on a bed of moss, still in his hoodie and jeans and the ground around him is scattered with flower petals. There's also a thick arm wrapped around his waist, but that is by far the most normal part of the situation. 

"Good morning," Derek rumbles from behind him, breath warm on the back of Stiles' neck. 

"Hey," Stiles rasps. His throat is dry and there's a slight headache starting at his temples. When he shifts slightly, a small twig falls out of his hair and lands on his chin. A breeze comes gliding through the trees, bringing with it the twisted together scents of flowers and spices and something sharper, almost electrical, definitely magical in nature. The scents stir up Stiles' memories of the night before and he sits up slightly, just enough to get a better look at his immediate surroundings. 

Last night, the small clearing had been absolutely filled with witches, members of a huge coven. Stiles and Derek had been sent as ambassadors from Scott's pack to welcome the coven to the area and assure them that there would be no problem from Scott's pack (unless there absolutely had to be). Stiles had been expecting that they'd sit down around a roaring fire, maybe perform some rituals, discuss terms late into the night. 

He was _not_ expecting to spend half the night dancing around flames, skin tingling with electricity, drinking from canteens made of leather and getting completely, irrevocably intoxicated. 

"What was in that stuff?" he groans, absently reaching down and tangling his fingers with Derek's. 

"I have no idea," Derek mumbles. "But I think I'm hungover." His nose presses into the spot just underneath Stiles' ear and for a few seconds, even with the strange setting, it feels like a normal morning. 

But that's only until Stiles lifts his hand to rub at his dry eyes. 

At first, he thinks that what he's seeing is just a shadow. But when he waves his hand slightly, nothing changes. He licks his thumb and rubs at his finger, just in case it's just more dirt, but again, nothing happens. 

"Derek?" 

"Hmm?" 

"What the hell is this?" Slowly, Derek pulls himself away from Stiles and sits up. He looks adorable, hair mussed, eyes still heavy with sleep, but Stiles only barely notices. He's too busy staring at the solid black band, half an inch in diameter, that has appeared on his left ring finger overnight, almost like it was tattooed there. Derek frowns slightly and lifts his own left hand. There's an exact duplicate of the band on his own ring finger.

"Oh," Derek says quietly and, if Stiles isn't mistaken, he's paler than usual. "That changes things." 

"What is it?" Stiles asks again, twisting and turning his hand so that he can look at the band from every angle. "Is this the plague or something? Did they put a freaking curse on us?" 

"Some people might look at it that way," Derek says, with a quiet laugh that really doesn't seem suited to the situation. His mouth even crinkles into a slight smile. Stiles just stares at him, trying to tamp his anxiety down, wondering if Derek has tipped over the edge and completely lost it. Finally, after a few eternally long seconds of staring at his own finger, Derek's face grows serious and he drops his hands into his lap. 

"It's how witches show that they have a partner," Derek says. "It's a magical wedding band, Stiles."

Stiles' jaw drops. He tries to come up with a coherent sentence no less than five times, but when that fails, he settles on spitting out the first word that comes to mind. 

" _What_?" 

"They must have really liked us," Derek says thoughtfully, looking down at the band again. "I've never heard of witches performing the ritual on other species." 

"What?" Stiles says again. "Are you saying that, at some point last night, we got married by a bunch of witches?" 

"That's what it looks like." Stiles groans and drops his head into his hands. 

"I'm too hungover for this," he sighs. The forest is starting to warm up so he shucks off his hoodie and lays back down against the moss, which is surprisingly soft. "I need at least four more hours of sleep before I can even begin to process this." 

"I agree." Derek follows suit, slotting himself against Stiles' back and draping his arm over Stiles' waist. His fingers gently brush over the line of skin where Stiles' shirt has ridden up and Stiles sighs quietly. 

It's _so_ close to being a normal morning. 

"It's not legally binding," Derek murmurs after a few moments, lips brushing against the shell of Stiles' ear. 

"What isn't?" 

"The marriage. It's not legal. I don't know if it really counts to anyone but witches, actually. If that makes you feel a bit better." Stiles stays quiet for a few moments. He knows what he wants to say, but even though they've been together for the better part of a decade, he isn't sure if saying what's on his mind will send Derek running for the hills. 

Fuck it. He can always blame it on the hangover, or the effects of the magic still lingering in the air. 

"I don't think I'd really mind if it was." Derek makes a quiet noise and moves his hand, twisting their fingers together and rubbing his thumb over Stiles' band. 

"Honestly? I wouldn't either." A flood of warmth rushes through Stiles' entire body, something completely intoxicating, like pure happiness. A wide grin splits his face and he pulls their clasped hands up to his mouth so that he can press a kiss against Derek's knuckles. 

He takes back everything and anything bad he has ever possibly said about witches. Witches are fucking _awesome._

He just really, really hopes that the next time he marries Derek, the ceremony is performed by someone a little less supernatural. He also hopes that he's sober. And that he remembers it. 

And that it's soon. Really soon.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
